


The boathouse kiss

by Julie_Anne



Category: Maurice (1987), Maurice - E. M. Forster
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-25 14:36:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17727059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Julie_Anne/pseuds/Julie_Anne
Summary: Day 1Prompt - first kissA fond memory.





	The boathouse kiss

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eyeslikerain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyeslikerain/gifts).



> To my co-fan of the boathouse kiss.

\- Can you remember when did we first kiss? A real mutual kiss, I mean.

Alec crinkled his face in a comic grimace, as if he was trying really very hard to remember something. He was feeling playful.

\- Sorry… no idea! It must have been sometime along that night in the Russet Room, but we weren’t exactly worried about creating fond memories, were we?

Maurice smiled. His own recall of that night was unfocused. He remembered it as a dream: warm, chaotic, slightly illogical and yet deeply fulfilling. He couldn’t single out details, it was cloudy, distant…  He counted those days as the pre-history of his present life. A time when his mind was still fighting the primeval muddle of guilt and shame, and his body trying to adjust to the newfound joys of physical love.

\- I like to think it was at the boathouse. Before that, we didn’t really know each other. We were both scared, confused, assessing power, measuring strength… We had no commitment before that.

The boathouse! The place Alec had always fancied for their meetings, since the day he had first seen Maurice and had been instantly drawn to that beautiful man whose eyes seemed so angry and gentle at once. How romantic of Maurice to think of it that way!

They were not alone. Subtly, Alec’s hand touched his friend’s, a soft, casual touch.

\- You’re right. It had to be there, at the boathouse. You do remember then…?

Who wouldn’t? That inebriating sensation of absolute freedom, the knowledge of something secret and sacred nobody else knew, and that cosy little room, smelling of damp wool and woodsmoke, that was theirs and theirs alone for the night. In a sense, they’d both been reborn that night.

He let his hand linger on that casual touch a little longer, to make it deliberate, an intentional gesture of fondness, a commitment.

\- Of course I remember. Every single detail of it…


End file.
